


Idylls

by PepperPrints



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:59:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lancelot served a dying king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idylls

**Author's Note:**

> A late 31_days fill. Prompt: the ocean that stores jewels is nearby.
> 
> The story Lancelot tells is Tennyson's _Lancelot and Elaine_ , from _Idylls of the King._ Apologies about there being convenient excuses for him to be coherent for once.

There were lulls in the madness. It was always for a brief time, when his master's energy was too weak to power the Mad Enhancement, and the veil upon his senses lifted. The clarity should have been a blessing, but it felt more like torment. The madness served as the penance that his king had denied him, and Lancelot hid behind it.

 

He had a new lord now, who was so far apart from Arthur that a comparison could not even be imagined. Kariya Matou was full of fury and frailty, and tonight he had not so much fallen asleep as fallen unconscious from sheer exertion. The pain the man endured was extraordinary; their connection made it clear to Lancelot, but there was nothing he could do for his master. If he could, he would have convinced him to use the grail to mend himself, but Kariya would refuse; he would save anyone but himself.

 

Lancelot served a dying king.

 

Kariya had never seen Lancelot like this, which was very much on purpose. Shame urged Lancelot into hiding, which was a cowardice that he could not deny. He was always present, though, always aware of his master – even if Kariya wasn't always aware of him.

 

It was strange, how Kariya spoke to him. As Berserker, Lancelot did not possess the coherency for conversation and often times even his understanding was clouded. Undeterred, his master would speak to him. At first, it seemed like necessities: Kariya explained their goal, their chosen target, and those whose suffering they fought to end. He told Berserker of his purpose in this war.

 

It was not a quest of nobility; for Kariya it would be suicide.

 

Then, in quieter moments, Kariya would speak of almost nothing at all. Lancelot never manifested to a physical form except for battle, and while it was true that his presence was with his master regardless, Lancelot could never use his voice. Kariya was not bothered, and he continued to talk to his servant anyway. It was always little things: fond, sad stories about the young girl who he fought for, hopeful promises of glory, or quiet mourning of his weakening body.

 

It wasn't clear if Kariya knew whether Lancelot could hear him or not. Kariya might not have cared, and Lancelot would not have been surprised. After that much pain, that much degradation, the loneliness must have been overwhelming. Kariya needed to speak to someone to keep himself sane; it didn't matter if Lancelot talked back. It was simply cathartic.

 

He watched his master now, his broken body curled up on the ground. Kariya had meant to leave this place and find proper shelter, and when his body failed him, he collapsed here in the park. There wasn't much here to hide him, apart from the tree he lay under and the water at his back. Lancelot would have carried him somewhere safer, but while Kariya struggled in his sleep, their bond was tenuous. Lancelot knew how Kariya's body hurt him; his already dwindling energy might give out suddenly, and then Lancelot would vanish again. It would be too risky to try to move him.

 

Kariya whined faintly in his sleep, his good arm twitching, and Lancelot noticed something clasped within his hand.

 

Lancelot crouched. Weak as Kariya was, urging his hand open was nothing. What he saw gave him pause, and it only took a moment of reflection to remember what Kariya told him.

 

“This was supposed to be for Sakura,” Kariya had said on the night of the summoning. He was clearing out his belongings from the sad little room in what could not be called his 'home', and he stumbled on the bracelet. “Her sister has a matching one... I can't bring myself to give it to her now. Since...”

 

Kariya hadn't finished that thought; he hadn't needed to. He shoved the trinket into his pocket, and Lancelot hadn't seen it since.

 

Now, here in the park, Kariya had drawn it out again. He recalled those stories too: meeting the girls in places like this. It was no wonder.

 

Lancelot watched Kariya's sleeping face, saw the pain written on his tortured features, and he suddenly found himself speaking.

 

“There was a girl: the Lady Astolat,” he began, and now that he spoke, he understood how easy it was for Kariya to speak all those times before, even without an audience. Same as Kariya, there were words on his chest that needed to be expelled. “I met her since I sought a disguise.”

 

Perhaps he should go back to the beginning. It didn't really matter, since Kariya was not awake to hear the tale, but it made a difference to tell it right. Lancelot closed his eyes briefly and started over. “My king once found a beautiful crown, where nine diamonds lay within it. These gems became the prizes for the tournaments of knights, and I won each with scarce competition. Beautiful as they were, I desired to give the diamonds to Lady Guinevere.”

 

Lancelot took a careful pause, considering his words. “When my love for my queen was threatened to be exposed, I required secrecy. The final tournament came and I sought another sword and shield that I might hide behind. That was how I came to the Lord of Astolat.

 

“His daughter, Elaine, became smitten with me. In her youthful mind, she mistook my chivalry for reciprocation,” continued Lancelot quietly. “I wore her favor on my helmet, to strengthen my disguise. I had never given any woman such a thing.”

 

Lancelot ran his thumb over the beads of the bracelet. Kariya was still and sleeping, showing no signs of waking. “After the tournament, I was injured, and she cared for me. The stories began to spread, of how Lancelot wore the token of the Lady Astolat. What youth and what love!” Lancelot shook his head sadly. It took a long moment before he spoke what came next.

 

“I denied her – for I loved her, but rather as my sister or dearest friend – and she fell into despair. She lost her will, and let herself be starved to death. Soon, she passed, and a funeral barge brought her to Camelot.”

 

Lancelot bowed his head, his hand tightening on the fragile little bracelet. “I had hurt the hearts of two women, for my queen had believed the rumors told of myself and the young Elaine. I came to offer her the diamonds, and she reacted in a fury. Jealous and pained, she threw them out into the water...” Lancelot smiled faintly. “Fate will tell you where they landed: with another girl who longed for such a gift.”

 

Lancelot stood, and he walked towards the water. Here, like Guinevere before him, he threw the gems into the lake. He still remembered Guinvere's voice, full of passion and despair.

 

“Nay! By the mother of our Lord himself--! She shall not have them!”

 

They were better to be sunk away, at the bottom of the water.

 

His entire life was sunken now. There was nothing left of it; nor was there anything left of Kariya.

 

Behind him, Lancelot heard Kariya stir. He turned back towards his master, prepared to disappear should he awaken. Lancelot was still not ready to be seen like this. Kariya made a soft noise, his brows tightening, and his lips moved hazily to form far too familiar words.

 

Lancelot knew of the bonds between master and servant; he knew memories and history could mesh. He had seen much more of Kariya than what he had been outright told. However, for his part, he believed the madness shielded Kariya from him – and that was best, since that burden was Lancelot's own to bear.

 

But now Kariya spoke.

 

“Pray for my soul thou too, sir Lancelot,” recited Kariya faintly, as if something had possessed his voice. “As thou art a knight peerless.”

 

Lancelot went very still, his eyes widening, and he reached out with an unsteady hand. He touched Kariya's ruined cheek, and his master's eyes were slow to open.

 

“Hn?” intoned Kariya hazily, utterly unaware of what he had said. “Berserker?”

 

There was no response; Lancelot vanished like smoke.


End file.
